Brushes ‘hanging ready for use'

Published: Sunday, June 30, 2013 at 4:30 a.m.

Last Modified: Friday, June 28, 2013 at 11:22 a.m.

‘Did you know that I was in a play once? I was in the second grade, and I can still remember. I played a little poor boy."

My neighbor Mr. Vaughn shares a memory — and I listen. He will be 100 on Sept. 15.

"My mother was proud and bought me a new pair of Black Bear stockings to wear with my knickers. The teacher took scissors and cut holes in the new stockings to make them look worn.

"I remember my mother's reaction. Of course, she said nothing. It was her nature. I had to sit on the knee of a pretty girl who was older. I must have been 7 or 8."

Grady Vaughn remembers his grandmother.

Alice Eloise Gilreath grew up just beyond where Ebenezer Church stands today, on the north side of Corn Mountain, near Wolfpen Creek. She met and married Simeon Vaughn.

"Together they had a son William Jerome, my father.

"My grandmother was born just before the Civil War. I remember sitting in her living room. There was an open fire. I sat so close that I would almost burn my legs. It felt so good.

"My grandmother and family would dig up the dirt in the smoke house, boil it, and reclaim the salt used to cure and preserve the country ham."

Grady Vaughn recalls the pastoral setting for the old homeplace and the spring waters that sparkled on a hot day. "It was a quiet, peaceful place."

"My own mother was named Annie Henderson; my father, William Jerome. My mother, God bless her, was a homemaker. She died in 1934."

According to Grady, there continues to be a Simeon or a Jerome in each Vaughn generation. Grady's full name is Grady Jerome Vaughn. His grandson Christopher Jerome has a son, Simeon Jerome Vaughn.

Mr. Vaughn still has his '64 Volkswagen. It is stored out back of his home in a comfortable shed — a storage unit he built as "a project." When I ask about that old car, he smiles.

I share with him my memories of hearing the car coming down our street. It was a way to set my watch. Mr. Vaughn always got home before 5 p.m. He never allowed work to keep him from his family and his wife, Ella. Ella worked for the Henderson County tax collector.

Grady has had several jobs in his lifetime — bookkeeper, grocery store operator — and, of course, house painter. His father taught him the skill of painting. Grady perfected the art.

"I am so excited by a brand- new brush and the satisfaction that comes with a beautiful job. In the basement, I have a dozen or more brushes … hanging ready for use."

When asked what is so appealing about painting a room or a house, he says, "I have written more than one book while painting — and I have made so many friends. I always carried a little notebook in my shirt pocket. I was booked six months in advance. Word just got around that I could do the job."

And do the job he could.

My own observations of his work reveal an artisan at work. He used all the paint in the bucket and allowed for no waste. Each brush stroke was skillfully executed.

His thoughts return to that '64 Volkswagen. "My wife, Ella, and I went all over in that little car. Didn't take much gas. We took beach trips and lots of day trips. We would visit her birthplace in Polk County."

As I stand to leave, he looks up at the ceiling with its exposed beams and recalls the joy when "Ella and Grady's dream house" finally had a roof on it.

On my way across the lawn to my home next door, I feel so blessed.

Like Grady Vaughn, my parents finished high school at the height of the Depression.

They had to alter their dreams. They understood sacrifice.

I live in their dream house.

Before my father's death (I was his caregiver), he turned to me one day and said, "Son, if you ever need any help, just call Grady. He's a genius."

<p>'Did you know that I was in a play once? I was in the second grade, and I can still remember. I played a little poor boy."</p><p>My neighbor Mr. Vaughn shares a memory — and I listen. He will be 100 on Sept. 15.</p><p>"My mother was proud and bought me a new pair of Black Bear stockings to wear with my knickers. The teacher took scissors and cut holes in the new stockings to make them look worn. </p><p>"I remember my mother's reaction. Of course, she said nothing. It was her nature. I had to sit on the knee of a pretty girl who was older. I must have been 7 or 8."</p><p>Grady Vaughn remembers his grandmother. </p><p>Alice Eloise Gilreath grew up just beyond where Ebenezer Church stands today, on the north side of Corn Mountain, near Wolfpen Creek. She met and married Simeon Vaughn. </p><p>"Together they had a son William Jerome, my father.</p><p>"My grandmother was born just before the Civil War. I remember sitting in her living room. There was an open fire. I sat so close that I would almost burn my legs. It felt so good.</p><p>"My grandmother and family would dig up the dirt in the smoke house, boil it, and reclaim the salt used to cure and preserve the country ham."</p><p>Grady Vaughn recalls the pastoral setting for the old homeplace and the spring waters that sparkled on a hot day. "It was a quiet, peaceful place." </p><p>"My own mother was named Annie Henderson; my father, William Jerome. My mother, God bless her, was a homemaker. She died in 1934."</p><p>According to Grady, there continues to be a Simeon or a Jerome in each Vaughn generation. Grady's full name is Grady Jerome Vaughn. His grandson Christopher Jerome has a son, Simeon Jerome Vaughn.</p><p>Mr. Vaughn still has his '64 Volkswagen. It is stored out back of his home in a comfortable shed — a storage unit he built as "a project." When I ask about that old car, he smiles. </p><p>I share with him my memories of hearing the car coming down our street. It was a way to set my watch. Mr. Vaughn always got home before 5 p.m. He never allowed work to keep him from his family and his wife, Ella. Ella worked for the Henderson County tax collector.</p><p>Grady has had several jobs in his lifetime — bookkeeper, grocery store operator — and, of course, house painter. His father taught him the skill of painting. Grady perfected the art. </p><p>"I am so excited by a brand- new brush and the satisfaction that comes with a beautiful job. In the basement, I have a dozen or more brushes … hanging ready for use."</p><p>When asked what is so appealing about painting a room or a house, he says, "I have written more than one book while painting — and I have made so many friends. I always carried a little notebook in my shirt pocket. I was booked six months in advance. Word just got around that I could do the job." </p><p>And do the job he could. </p><p>My own observations of his work reveal an artisan at work. He used all the paint in the bucket and allowed for no waste. Each brush stroke was skillfully executed.</p><p>His thoughts return to that '64 Volkswagen. "My wife, Ella, and I went all over in that little car. Didn't take much gas. We took beach trips and lots of day trips. We would visit her birthplace in Polk County."</p><p>As I stand to leave, he looks up at the ceiling with its exposed beams and recalls the joy when "Ella and Grady's dream house" finally had a roof on it. </p><p>On my way across the lawn to my home next door, I feel so blessed. </p><p>Like Grady Vaughn, my parents finished high school at the height of the Depression.</p><p>They had to alter their dreams. They understood sacrifice. </p><p>I live in their dream house.</p><p>Before my father's death (I was his caregiver), he turned to me one day and said, "Son, if you ever need any help, just call Grady. He's a genius."</p>